


Reflections

by Twilightrider



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Vampire Widowmaker, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilightrider/pseuds/Twilightrider
Summary: "I am not your witch," the Doctor begins.A collection of semi-related one-shots in this AU I made, in non-chronological order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead (yet). I will hopefully update In the Night sometime this month but I needed to get this little AU out my head first.

She laps at the wound, tasting the sickly sweet, addicting substance poor out. Euphoria erupts in her mouth. Despite the many years, no matter long she has lived, the countless never forgets a taste.

The Doctor tastes just like _her_.

It's pleasurable, oh so refined. She can feel the hum of magic underneath the skin, lightly, not overpowering like _her_. But still there.

The comfortable silence breaks with a small gasp. “How do I taste?” The sound echoes, reverberating throughout the room. The darkness makes the quiet more palpable, as if the Countess could reach out and touch it.

“Like her,” she murmurs, low but voice as graceful as a song. “My lover,” she elaborates. “The Witch of the Wilds.”

The Doctor hums, merely acknowledging the information. Her fingers trail down her own neck, feeling the wound already closing, she shivers, almost excited, but still subdued. “I am not her.” The Doctor reminds, gently.

“Yes,” the Countess agrees, trailing her cold, stiff fingers through golden locks, gently massaging the Doctor’s scalp. “I killed her myself.”

There a pregnant pause, not filled with urgency or fear, merely the acknowledgement of such a statement.

The Doctor shifts, turning her exhausted body to face the woman she is laying on top of. “I am not your witch.” The Doctor begins, bringing a finger up to the Countess’ mouth, gently pushing the lips apart. She brushes the fangs therein, feeling excitement fill her.

She leans in closer, taking her finger from the Countess’ mouth. The Countess’ unnatural breath hitches as they peer closer to each other. Like statues they stare, the Doctor never wavers. “But,” the Doctor whispers, so low the Countess is unsure if she heard. “I could be your Doctor.” She murmurs and finally closes the distance with bated breath.

The Countess’ breath is stolen away as they kiss. It has been so long since she has felt so warm, felt the thrum of magic swirling underneath skin so close. The Countess has lived a long life but for the first time in many years she feels _alive_.

“I would like that very much,” The Countess murmurs as the kiss ends. “Angela Ziegler. My own personal Doctor.”

 


	2. Bittersweet Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have come to kill me."
> 
> "Indeed." The Countess answers The Witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell with it I'm running with this shit until it gone, this is now a non-chronological order of lil mini one-shots set in this AU at different points in time so STRAP IN for some more content sometime soonish.

“You have come kill me.”

The simple statement of the fact brings reality to it. The tension in air, free flowing and ever present hardens into a taste so palpable the Countess is caught off guard by the ghost of a feeling crawling up her skin. It sinks deep, gripping her heart in sharpened claws, unable to let go. The sense of dread settles into her without a whisper, without a care, but it is  _there._

Laughter spills out of the _creature_ in front of her. Its light, almost carefree in a way, but each exhale of breath carries with it wisps of dark magic. The Countess is an unholy creature, a vampire, shunned by the light, but the Witch…. No…. the Witch holds within her a being much darker. No longer is the Witch a mere mortal, she holds much greater power than the Countess has seen in all her years.

The Witch terrifies her, grips her heart far harder than any other long dead emotion could. The being in front of the Countess is not the bright eyed healer she once knew. She is not the young girl who once danced in the woods and laughed at the night sky, nor the powerful young woman who marched into the thick of battle not to fight, but to mend. She is an amalgamation of what the former mortal had hated, dark, evil, corrupt, _controlling_.

 _Angela,_ despite every promise, despite every ounce of compassion and empathy held within her, was still _The Witch._

“Indeed.” The Countess finally answers The Witch.

“How amusing. And who will be joining you this time?” The Witch smirks, “The four wanderers from long ago that stopped my vengeance?” She wonders aloud, “Perhaps the swordsman whose life I saved years past?” her laugh begins again, the sound like velvet but the implication much more chilling.. “Or perhaps… The cultist wishing to prove his worth to his master?” The Witch hums to herself as the possibilities are hung in the air. The Countess does not dare move, at least… not yet.

“It matters not.” the Witch continues. She approaches like a predator sizing up prey, deliberately taking small steps towards the Countess. “I do not wish to squabble with them. They are nothing to me.” The Witch crowds the Countess, leaning in just enough so their lips do not connect. “Not like _you.”_

“Stand down, Angela.” The Countess murmurs, every instinct screaming to back away, but she stays her ground. “Leave Adlersbrunn, they are pathetic, worthless humans… do not bother with them.” The Countess takes a lock of golden hair, twirling it within her fingers. “Tomorrow night, should you assault the castle, I will track you down and end you myself _ma belle._ So come with me instead. Be as we were so many years ago.”

Within the Witch’s eyes the Countess sees a flicker, one spot of light amidst the darkness. The last remnant of Angela’s morality burns bright for but a moment, until the shadows grow heavy and the pulse of dark magic fills the air so thick the Countess can taste it.

The flicker dies, along with the last true part of Angela within the Witch.

“You are many years too late to save me, my love.” The Witch whispers softly and cups the Countess’ chin, gently caressing the pale skin. “Tomorrow Adlersbrunn will feel my wrath. They will be punished, and should that spell my death, I am willing to be taken into his cold embrace.” The Witch closes the gap between the Countess and herself.

The kiss is filled with warmth and whispers of love, but just underneath the surface the Countess feels the dark magic crawling inside of the Witch, infecting her inside out.

The Witch breaks the embrace, gently caressing the Countess’ face still. “Regardless of what happens tomorrow, we will meet again.”

The Countess nods, unable to form the exact words wishing to spill out. Angela in all forms has always made her feel _alive._ She does not want to lose the feeling again, not after waiting so long.

“Goodbye Amelie.” The Witch whispers, trailing her hand off of the Countess’ cheek. The Countess watches as the Witch’s wings open up, burning bright against the cold air of the night sky.

“Goodbye Angela.” The Countess says to herself, her resolve to end Witch strengthening as she watches her lost love fly into the moonlight sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this please considered leaving a review, I'd like to know how you enjoyed!
> 
> And have a great day!


	3. New Beginnings to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend comes to visit the Countess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm this one isn't really edited so if you see a mistake I apologize lol. I did look it over though so it should be okay.

 

Heavy, throbbing. The Countess’ long dead heart pounds in her chest, quickening unnaturally. 

_ Beat. Beat. Beat.  _

“So you finally found her, eh Count Orlok?” A voice filters from the darkness, lighthearted and playful,  the owner invisible to even the Countess’ enhanced sight.  

The Countess does her best to ignore the voice, purposefully annoying her guest for stating the obvious. She brings her cold hands to the frame of a painting, its age refined, the painting is well kept like the other art pieces on the wall. The wall boasts a wide selection of art from different eras, Greek pottery to an older black and white photo taken in the late 1920s, the wall is filled with many pieces. They would be considered separate, were it not for the fact each piece has one similar item in common: The resemblance of a blonde haired woman being bared on each one. 

_ Beat. Beat. Beat. _

“So you’re going to just sit there and ignore me? Your favourite guest?” The voice calls out again, hoping to get a rise out of the Countess. When that does not work, the voice sighs and reveals themselves, appearing out of the shadows as if out of thin air in the form of a woman. She is darker skinned, with long flowing hair shaved on one side. 

“You really need to step up your conversation game, Ame,” The woman smirks, “Its not becoming of royalty isn’t it?”

With the woman finally visible, the Countess turns to her. “I simply live to torment you, Sombra.” She replies with dry humour, but a smirk of her own graces her face for but a moment. . The Countess rolls her shoulders, attempting to relax but unable to with her heart racing.

_ Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. _

“So what is her name this time?” Sombra asks, genuine curiosity evident in the question. “It doesn’t seem to change much except for her last name.” The Latina leans casually against the wall, careful not to disturb the many paintings and art works depicting the woman they are discussing.

“Ziegler.” Amelie answers. “Angela Ziegler.” 

“The Doctor?” Sombra questions in surprise, briefly caught off guard. “You’re--- soulmates with  _ her? _ ” Her voice strains for but a moment, intrigue and hesitance entering it. Her stance changes too, her hands wrung together, brief fidgeting movements of her fingers begin.

“Yes.” The Countess recalls seeing her for the first time in this life. The beautiful Doctor, gliding down from above in her black and red suit, wings fully extended glowing harsh red energy thick and tangible, blocking out the sun for just but a moment...before she swooped down, like a hawk hunting its prey.

The Countess had been awestruck, utterly entranced by the power, the finesse, the pure  _ confidence  _ The Doctor had excreted. 

The scene plays out again, like a video on playback in her mind. The Countess, thick in the heat of battle, sneaking up behind a grunt and draining them dry. The sound of air moving, rushing as an object enters the sky. The Doctor hangs in the clouds, blocking the Sun like a day of reckoning… until she swoops down in the middle of the field, a dark presence going with her, permeating the battle field. The two warring sides in the battle stop. The air is still. Energy crackles, mesmerizing those around it.

The Doctor stands in the middle, unfazed, determined. 

_ Rise. _

_ Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. _

“You know-- what she did, right? What she has the power to do?”  Sombra asks, attempting to keep her voice cool but her own memories of watching The Doctor work… fill it with hesitation. 

“I do. With her power, she will run risk of it happening-- again. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Every time she has been like this, Ame, it always ends up--”

“Bad? Yes, I quite very well know Sombra.”

“At this point is it still worth it to keep trying?” Sombra asks, frustration clouding her voice. Every time her friend ends up hurt one way or another--

“Yes,” The Countess says, her voice as firm as stone. “It absolutely is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you like it! Comments make me wanna write this more, and they let me know if people are interested. 
> 
> And please have a great day/night!


	4. Bright Burnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another time, another timeline.

Fleeting moments under blinding moonlight, small touches, caresses taken as they lay in darkness. The thought of being caught fading as they disappear into the woods. They breathe quietly, silent as the dead while they go deeper. Only the light touch of fingers entwined lazily keeps them together. Like they should be.

They arrive at a clearing. A fire pit lies in the center, set up with few pot and pans, sticks, and few other bits scattered about. Moonlight filters through easily, allowing each tool to be seen clearly. The young of the pair that gather in the clearing looks to her companion expectantly. She receives a light giggle in return, the sound warm and endearing to her heart.

“Angela… you wake me up in the middle of the night to see, this?” The younger of the pair points to fire pit, cold, and filled with half-charred logs. Confusion is written all over the younger girl’s face, completely mystified by her friend.

“No, Amelie.” Her companion, Angela, grins, just barely visible in the moonlight. “I woke you up to show this!” She flicks her wrist towards the fire pit.

Bright burning flames lick the night sky. Upon where the fire pit sat lifeless and empty, now burns a roaring fire.

Amelie stands, dumbfounded. At a loss for words, she breathes deeply thoughts churning in her mind, racing.

“You’re?” Amelie can’t get the words out of her mouth, they’re stuck there, like bricks in her throat, weighing her down, choking her. What she had just seen is impossible. No one could possibly start a fire with a flick of their wrists, only witches did that. And _Angela-_

“I can do, so many extraordinary things-- Amelie I--,” Angela explains softly, taking Amelie’s hand in her own at her friend’s lack of words. “I healed a bird the other day, with a broken wing! WIth just a touch of my fingers. I felt this, this great-- power inside of me and if I can heal a bird with just a touch imagine what I can do to help people--”

“You’re a _witch_.” Amelie interrupts, still in disbelief.

“Yes.” Angela takes Amelie’s hand in her own. “But I am more than that _Amelie._ You _know_ this.”

“I-I know.” Amelie breathes in deep, hands shaking in Angela’s grip. Bright blue caring eyes stare into Amelie’s unfocused ones, the light of the fire reflecting off likes a cat’s giving Angela an unearthly glow in the night.

The fire crackles, leaving a silence between the two.

Slowly, cautiously, Angela brings her hands to Amelie’s cheeks, grazing her fingers across for but a moment before gripping the soft flesh and turning Amelie to face her.

“Please,” Angela whispers, “Amelie please. I’m already damned in the eyes of the village. If they find out I’m done for anyways-- no matter what. I showed you because I trust you; I care for you.”

“I care for you too Angela.” Amelie murmurs, soft but not hesitant. “I care much about you-- I was just…. It’s shocking.”

“Then please,” Angela pleads. “Show me.”

Breathless, they close the distance. The world falls apart, the night stills, the fire smolders behind them.

Their lips touch, soft and gentle.

The fire flares back to life.


End file.
